Primus Giveth and Primus Taketh
by Dorus the Walrus
Summary: A group of Predacons have arrived on Cybertron, but they aren't exactly here to help the Maximals nor are they fans of Megatron. They have their own plans and their own ideas about this so-called Oracle. BM - Includes the return of some BW characters.
1. Not Fade Away

Author's Notes – I've got kind of a love/hate relationship with Beast Machines: I loved the philosophical questions it raised, but hated the terrible character development and ugly robot designs. I also disliked the lack of Predacon/Decepticon outlook. The only Predacon that was really around was Megatron and he had gone so far off the deep end that even his fellow Predacons would call him insane. I wanted to write a fic from their usually violent point of view. The original idea for this story spawned my unfinished fic "Not Fade Away". Unfortunately, I tried to put way too many ideas and plots in it and it got rather convoluted, so it has now been discontinued. But, I've stripped it to its bare bones and decided to have another go at it.

**Primus Giveth and Primus Taketh**

_Chapter 1_

"Not Fade Away"

The young Maximal quickly walked through the prisoner area. He forced himself to look forward at all times as the Predacons raged against their cells, howling and jeering at the obviously skittish Maximal. The Maximal refused to give them the satisfaction of watching him squirm, but he was nonetheless frightened by their uncontrolled demeanor. The Maximal nearly ran up the stairs to the bridge, taking two at a time, where his commander was waiting.

"Sir, I'm afraid there's still no reply from Cybertron." He said through his rapidly cycling vents.

A brief look of panic flashed across the face of the prison ship's commander. "No one at all responded to our wave? Did you try the Maximal Elders? Civilians? Anyone?" The young Maximal could only shrug.

"What's going to happen?" He asked quietly.

"If we don't get energon soon… there's going to be a riot." His commander said, not bothering to take his optics off the prisoners to look at his young charge. The majority of the prisoners were your common everyday petty thieves and general malcontents. _The very best that Predacon programming has to offer,_ the commander thought with a sneer. But this particular prison ship also housed quite a few of Cybertron's more dangerous criminals: murderers, insurrectionists, former Decepticons, and the like. It had been nearly five lunarcycles since Cybertron had stopped transmitting messages. And not just messages, but deliveries as well, including energon deliveries to the prisoner ships. They had finally run out of energon two days ago and everyone was feeling the depletion, not just the Preds. Of course, you couldn't tell them that. They were absolutely convinced that the Maximals had plenty of energon and that they were hoarding it all for themselves.

The commander was pulled from his musings when the alarm sounded and the roaring of the prisoners turned into a raucous cacophony. "There's been a breach! They've broken out of their cells!" The young Maximal cried out. The commander looked down to see that several Predacons had finally broken through their bars in a near berserk rage and were opening cells left and right.

"Maximals! Get down there! We've got to stop them!" The commander yelled as everyone on the bridge immediately rushed down to put an end to the revolt.

The young Maximal hurried at the heels of his commander only to be swept away in a sea of Predacons. The escapees had worked fast, liberating everyone in that cellblock in just under a few minutes. He could hear the sound of gunfire, but couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. Suddenly, the young guard felt a sharp blow from the side of his helm, sending him crashing to the floor. The guard carefully moved his way through the jostling legs, hoping desperately that the Preds wouldn't notice him. The guard pulled himself through the crowd and landed in a relatively clear area near the back of the cellblock. He stood up and looked around.

He gasped when he saw his commander raised high above the crowd in the tight grip of the Predacon prisoners, a gaping hole where his face used to be. The Maximal could see torn wires sticking out, sparking and lifeless, from the dead commander.

"Well, well, who's this then?"

The Maximal turned to see a giant of a bot leaning casually against the wall. The Predacon was black and silver with a car alt-mode and a thick Cockney accent. The Maximal quickly pulled out his blaster and aimed it at the Predacon thug.

"Stay back! I'm warning you…"

"Oooo, kitten has claws." The Pred sneered. "Those are some bolts you've got there, Junior. I like you. You're all eager and yellow… full of kid-appeal. I'm sure someone would buy you up in a beat."

The Maximal tightened his finger on the trigger as the Predacon sauntered towards him. Before the Maximal guard could pull the trigger, however, he felt a sharp slice of pain strike him from behind. In an instant his optics darkened and he fell face forward onto the floor, revealing a large dent in the back of his helm. The culprit revealed himself to be a wildly grinning Pred who was as wide as the other was tall, brown and gray with a wrecker alt-mode.

The first Pred grinned at the other. "Lunker! How's prison life been treatin' you?"

"Slag-tastic. What's the plan, Tripod?"

Tripod shrugged. "Don't know. Haven't thought it up yet. Hey, do me a favor and pick this up, will ya?" Tripod gave a little kick to the offline Maximal.

Lunker groaned. "What for? He's just some stupid Maximal."

Tripod rolled his optics. "Yeah, I can see that, genius. We'll take him back to Cybertron with us. If he wakes up, we'll sell him. If he doesn't, then we'll melt him down for scrap metal. Win-win."

Lunker grabbed a hold of the yellow and red car-alt Maximal, slinging him over his shoulder and pocketing his blaster. Tripod turned his attention to the still raging Predacons. One Predacon in particular seemed to be the ring-leader of this little takeover and, with a large group surrounding him, made his way up to the bridge where he stood with his arms raised high.

"My fellow Predacons!" He bellowed. "Join me and together we shall throw off these shackles the Maximals have forced onto us! I shall lead a new era in Transformer history and you shall call me Megatron!"

"Primus." Tripod muttered under his breath. He turned to his left to see a mech standing not far from him with his arms crossed and a completely impassive expression on his face. "No matter where you go there's always some nut calling himself Megatron and going on about victory over the Maximals, eh?" Tripod said with a laugh. The other Predacon, however, simply looked at him, not saying anything. "Jackaft." Tripod mumbled before turning back to Lunker. "Let's get out of here before these Preds blow this place to the Pit."

Lunker nodded and the two, with the unconscious Maximal, began to make their way out of the cellblock. Tripod looked behind him to see the same impassive Predacon staring after him, just as unreadable. Tripod stopped. "If I were you I'd get out of here real quick. Predacons don't do well with a bunch of other Predacons in closed quarters." Tripod turned away, but could hear the soft click of the other Pred's feet trailing after him.

It was not just their cellblock that had revolted, but the entire ship. There were even a few Maximal turncoats fighting with the Predacon prisoners; the need for energon turning their processors rapid. Tripod, Lunker, and their two silent companions made their way down to the level that housed the escape pods. At once Tripod noticed that he hadn't been the only Predacon with the right idea.

There was a plain white femme already there, programming one of the escape pods to jettison to Cybertron. She was a motorcycle-alt with a hard, calculating face. Not the usual kind of Pred femme. The usual kind being the professional interfacers, of course. Tripod allowed his processor to briefly linger on the many professional interfacers he had had the pleasure of knowing before addressing the femme.

"Hey there, girlie. Got room for four more?" And with that Tripod roughly pushed the femme out of his way and made his way towards the escape pod.

"Hey!" The femme gave an indignant squawk.

"Don't worry." Tripod said with a gleaming smile as he and the other mechs filed in. "I'm not leavin' ya behind, now am I? I am, after all, a gentlemech. Now get your big white aft in here."

BMBMBMBMBM

The Maximal woke up with a groggy groan as his optics came flickering online. He looked around at the assembled crew leering down at him and felt his coolant tank shoot up to his throat.

"So, slavery it is then." The first Pred the Maximal had encountered said with a lazy grin. He pulled out the blaster and tapped it idly against the Maximal's helm. "Or I could be nice about it and give ya a choice. Whaddya say, Junior? Do you want to hand-feed some Predacon kingpin his energon cubes for the rest of your life, always sniveling and groveling and saying 'Yes! Right away, Master Predacon!' or are you too proud for that? Would you rather I just off-ed you and sell you in bits and pieces?" Tripod whispered as he drew slow circles on the Maximal's helm with the blaster tip.

"That is enough."

Tripod turned to look at the mech who had, until then, not spoken a word. "He speaks!" Tripod crowed and with that he pushed his way towards the other Pred's side, jostling the others in the escape pod as he went. "And here I thought you were some sort of mystic warrior Predacon samurai."

The other Predacon shot Tripod a look, shifting slightly to free his blue and green jet wing from underneath the grubby Pred's back.

Tripod laughed. "What? Surprised that I know what a samurai is? I can read human. I did get some schoolin' after all." The jet-alt Pred said nothing more, however. He simply turned away from Tripod to stare stoically ahead. "Aw, what'sa matter, Samurai?" Tripod cooed. "Were the Maximals too rough on you? Were you a naughty bot back in prison? Did they take you to their little back room to show you what they do to naughty bots? Did they-" Tripod was cut off when a little red light began to bleep suddenly. "What's it doin', girlie?" Tripod demanded, jerking his chin at the light.

The femme growled. "My name is Synthetica, not _girlie_. And it's just letting us know that we're coming up on Cybertron."

"Cybertron?" The Maximal asked. "But…" He started, but trailed off, not quite sure what to say.

"Hey! I didn't give you permission to talk, Junior." Tripod growled. "And what's with that 'but…'?"

The Maximal hesitated at first, but then took a deep cycle of breath and said, "For the past five months nothing has been coming out of Cybertron. And I mean nothing. Not so much as a "Hi!" from… from _anybody_ down there. It's like they all just vanished. That's what caused the energon shortage."

For a moment even Tripod was silent. "But… how?" Lunker asked, worry and confusion etched on to his face.

"It sounds like everyone's dead." Synthetica said. The Maximal couldn't help but shudder at her tone. It was as nonchalant as though she were describing the weather, not stating that an entire planet was dead. She gave a little shrug. "A virus could do that sort of damage. You know, air-born? One that gets into your vents and cycles through your energon cables." At this, the femme gave a little laugh. "I remember this one virus that I had created when I was working for the Maximal Council. It would literally cause a bot's energon cables to explode inside his superstructure." She gave another little laugh.

"Well…" Tripod drawled. "I think you just topped my criminal record. Now, suppose the same thing's happened down there? How do we stop our energon cables from explodin'?"

Synthetica began to rummage through the escape pod. "There should be some filters somewhere around here. Standard procedure. Just in case the escape pod lands on a planet that has a corrosive atmosphere."

Suddenly, the pod rocked, knocking the Predacon femme onto her back. The pod began to shake and jerk. It felt as though they were no longer cruising but plummeting. "What's happening?" Tripod yelled.

"I don't know!" Synthetica screamed, lifting herself. "I think something is sucking us down towards the planet!"

"Gravity?" Lunker supplied helpfully.

"I mean, other than gravity, you stupid fool!" She yelled. "Something mech-made! We're going to crash!"


	2. Return

**Primus Giveth and Primus Taketh**

_Chapter 2_

"Return"

Synthetica's optics slowly blinked on as she became aware of her surroundings. She could feel the energon pulsing through her fibers in time with the pain she felt pounding on her helm. She could literally feel the thumping in-

Wait a minute.

Synthetica jumped to her feet just in time to pull Tripod's Maximal captive away from the hatch. The crash had dented the hatch door inward, making it impossible to simply lift the lever to open it, and the stupid Maximal had been trying to beat through it to the outside before she even had a chance to analyze the air first.

"You stupid, stupid fool!" She screeched as she lifted her hand to bring it crashing down on top of the younger bot's helm. "You could have killed us all!"

The Maximal's optics suddenly shifted downward to the left. Synthetica followed his gaze and saw the blaster lying limply in Tripod's hand. Before she could react the Maximal pushed her to the ground and scrambled for the blaster. He pressed his back against the wall and leveled the blaster at the femme just as the others were coming online.

"Hey, now! What's all this, Junior?" Tripod called out as he stood up. The Maximal swiveled the blaster to aim it at him. "You wouldn't hurt your old friend Tripod, now would you?"

"Friend?!" The Maximal's voice cracked at this. "You were going to sell me into slavery!"

Tripod waved his hands dramatically. "What?! No! Never! You're overreacting. That was just a joke!"

"Shut up!" The Maximal screamed. "I'm leaving. You!" The Maximal pointed the gun at Lunker. "Open the hatch."

"Wait!" Synthetica cried. "At least let us hook up our filters before you open the door."

The Maximal hesitated at first, but then nodded curtly to her request. Synthetica got to work handing out personal filters from the emergency kit. The Maximal quickly snatched his from the femme and attempted to put it in one-handed and without taking his optics away from the assembled Predacons. His optics flitted down for a nanosecond as he reached to open his chest panel. He could see in his peripheral the Preds slowly closing in and quickly jerked his head to look at them again. They stopped their advance. There was no way he was going to be able to put this in with only one hand and without being able to see.

The Maximal jerked the blaster towards Synthetica again. "You do it." He commanded.

Keeping his blaster pointed down at Synthetica as she reached for his chest panel and his optics trained on the other Preds, the Maximal allowed the femme to get it work.

A few seconds later Synthetica snapped the panel shut. "There." She said. "It's in." The Maximal nodded towards Lunker, who, after exchanging a brief look with Tripod, went over and kicked the hatch door open. Cautiously, all five Transformers peeked out.

Silent. That was the first thing they noticed. Whereas Cybertron had once been a bustling planet, filled with life and sounds, there was now nothing. It was a dead, empty sort of silence that struck the Maximal to his core. The Maximal jumped out into the barren streets, the blaster still aimed at the Predacons. "If it's the last thing I'll do, I'll make sure you end up back in prison." The Maximal hissed. Tripod just gave him lazy grin in response and made a shooing gesture with his hand.

The Maximal turned around and took off in a run. He wasn't ten feet from the escape pod when he felt himself crashing down onto the pavement below, his whole body wracking with electrical spasms. After a few seconds the spasms stopped, leaving the Maximal lying on the ground, cycling air heavily. Tripod's face suddenly appeared above him. "Guess Synthetica was right. There _is_ something wrong with the air. Pretty stupid of ya to let a Pred put your filter in." With that, Tripod grabbed the blaster and lifted up his leg to smash his foot into the Maximal's face. The Maximal doubled over in pain as the larger Predacon viciously kicked him again and again.

"Stop! Now!" The growling voice of the usually silent Predacon hissed. Tripod turned to look at the jet-alt Pred in blind fury. The other Predacon didn't even notice; he was too busy staring at some distant spot up the road.

"Don't tell me what to do, ya useless piece of slag!" Tripod roared.

The other Predacon whipped his head around to snarl, "Quiet! Listen." Tripod hissed, but did, in fact, listen. He could hear a dull humming that was steadily becoming louder. It sounded like a hoard of motorcycles. Behind him, the Maximal slowly got to his hands and knees, groaning as he did.

"So… there are people? They're not all dead?" Lunker asked, shifting his gaze to look at the three Predacons before him.

"We should get to higher ground. We do not know who they are or what their agenda is. This is no place for a battle. We should remain out of sight until it can be determined if they are hostile." The Predacon said before transforming into a jet.

"Huh." Tripod grunted as he watched the jet-alt Transformer take off. "Guess he _is_ a solider after all." He looked down at the ground where he saw the Maximal attempting to crawl away. "No ya don't!" Tripod exclaimed before reaching down to haul the Maximal to his feet "You're comin' with us." And with that he pushed the Maximal forward.

The group hid themselves in an alcove high above the street. It was completely invisible from ground level. They had just managed to reach their hiding place when a large group of motorcycle drones appeared.

"So, not actual people then." Tripod muttered to himself as he watched the scene below. After determining that the occupants had abandoned the site, the drones broke themselves up into smaller groups in search of the unknown Transformers, leaving the area silent and empty once more.

Tripod heard a low whine from behind him. He and the jet-alt Predacon turned to look to see the Maximal convulsing with another electrical spasm. Unlike the first time, this one was lasting longer than a few seconds. Synthetica stood not more than a foot away from the seizing Maximal, studying her subject intently with a cool detachment.

"This is ridiculous." The jet-alt Predacon growled and, in one swift move, grabbed the blaster from Tripod's hand and made his way to the Maximal. He roughly pushed Synthetica away from the young Transformer, causing her to tumble onto the ground.

"Hey! I need to study the effects of this virus!" She squawked when she saw the other Predacon place his foot on the Maximal's neck in effort to hold his head still.

"You already _know_ what the ultimate effect is going to be. It is time to put him out of his misery." With that the Predacon leveled the blaster at the Maximal's head.

Tripod growled at the Predacon's interference. "What are you sayin', Samurai?" Tripod sneered. "Do ya think you're better than us? Do ya think we're just a bunch of animals? Who fraggin' _cares_ if the Maximal is in misery?! He's a Maximal!" Tripod yelled. He pointed one of his fingers at the other Predacon. "Ya know what I think? I think you're a little Maximal pet! Kinda liked it in prison, didn't ya? All those Maximals tellin' ya want to do, sniffin' after them for some kind of special treatment. Just how far did ya have your head up their afts?"

Tripod could see the Predacon's hand visibly shaking, but other than that made no acknowledgment of the other. He simply continued to stare dispassionately into the Maximal's optics. Tripod saw red. He ran towards the silent Predacon in a fury, ready to teach the other a lesson. Before Tripod could reach the unnamed Predacon, something large and yellow hit him square in the chestplate, knocking him to the ground. He blearily looked up and saw a strange mutant cat-like Transformer standing over him menacingly.

"Drop the blaster!"

He looked around the bot to see four more mutants ready for battle. The jet-alt Predacon slowly lifted blaster from the Maximal's face and dropped it to ground. Lunker and Synthetica also made movements to show surrender in the face of these frightening creatures.

"They're _Preds_." One of them said. He had the whine of a child.

The giant monkey sighed. "That's just Prime."


	3. The Maximals

**Primus Giveth and Primus Taketh**

Chapter 3

"The Maximals"

Tripod narrowed his eyes in suspicion as their captors looked them up and down. They had led the Predacons deep underground, beneath the cities of Cybertron, in a secret lair. Four of the mutant Transformers were keeping guard, while the large monkey had taken the dying Maximal to another area within the lair to do who knows what.

At the moment though, it was four against four. There wouldn't be better odds than this. On top of that, only two of them looked truly battle-worthy. Tripod knew for a fact that the yellow cat could dole out some serious pain, having learned that in their brief struggle from before. Tripod looked at the cat. He seemed to be carved out of stone, his eyes narrow slits as he regarded the four Predacons before him. The eight-legged femme also looked like she could handle herself in a tussle. She watched their captives just as coolly as the cat did, completely aloof and unworried. Or at least, that's how she appeared on the outside.

The other two were hardly worth mentioning. One was very small with the superstructure of a rat. There was a calculating intelligence in his optics, but in a contest of strength Tripod had no doubt who would come out on top. The other was a flier and a young bot at that. Unlike his comrades, the bat had no problem voicing his displeasure about the Predacons loudly and frequently. Tripod could count on his experience and brutality in a fight against him.

Tripod shifted his optics to first Lunker on his right and then to the green and blue Predacon flier on his left. Both bots caught his look and, almost imperceptibly, shifted their stances. They were ready to spring into action. They weren't the only ones; the rat, the spider, and the cat all tensed. At the moment it was a standstill. Then, just as Tripod was about to leap, the monkey returned.

Everyone in the room immediately returned to a relaxed stance, silently pretending that a vicious fight had not almost erupted between the two groups. "Maximals," the monkey began. He looked far too happy and self-satisfied for Tripod's tastes. "I'd like for you all to meet our newest team member, Redstrike."

Out from behind the monkey came a red, gray, and yellow mutant robotic/organic Transformer. Tripod reeled back at the sight. The formerly dying car-alt Maximal had been warped into a hare, complete with the long ears and a hopping gait. The Predacon could sense his fellow prisoners stiffen at the sight. Is this what was in store for them?

The monkey held up his hands in a placating gesture at the Predacons. "I know this must be bewildering for you, but trust me when I say that we have no intention of harming you." The bat grumbled at this and although Redstrike didn't actually say anything, he did shoot the monkey a glare before sulking off to stand next to the Maximal flier. "Let us introduce ourselves: I am Optimus Primal and this is Cheetor, Blackarachnia, Rattrap, and Nightscream."

Tripod shrugged. Alright, he'll play along for now. "They call me Tripod."

"Tripod?" Nightscream sneered. "That's a weird designation."

"It's a nickname." Tripod explained with a leer. "Got it 'cause of my third leg."

The bat blinked owlishly at this. "Huh?" He asked.

Blackarachnia groaned. "Don't worry about it, kid."

"Anyway," Tripod went on. "This over here is Lunker and Synthetica."

Optimus turned his gaze onto the Predacon flier. "And who are you?" He asked.

The Predacon said nothing. He was wearing the same emotionless expression that he had when Tripod first met him. Almost empty.

"He's shy." Tripod said with a grin, turning the attention back onto himself. "We all call him Samurai."

"Why?" Nightscream called out.

"Primus, you are annoying!" Tripod yelled. He narrowed his optics to glare at the young Maximal. "Don't you have anythin' better to do than to ask stupid questions?!"

"Hey!" Cheetor called out. "Don't talk to him like that!" He crouched and bared his teeth at the car-alt Pred.

"Cheetor, that's enough." At the word of Optimus the cat backed down.

Tripod turned back to the monkey, still fuming. "Now that we've got the _niceties_ out of the way, care to explain what _you_ are and what's goin' on?"

The Maximal leader sighed. "We had originally been an exploration crew that had been sent into deep space to find new life. A Predacon radical named Megatron stole a ship and intended to go back in time to alter the past. He wanted to ensure that the Decepticons would win the Great War. We intercepted him and crashed onto a primeval Earth. We were able to defeat him, but on our way back to Cybertron he escaped and we were sent through a wormhole."

At this, the bat picked up. "Megatron created a virus to incapacitate everyone on the planet and then removed their sparks." He said the name 'Megatron' with such contempt for one so young.

Optimus nodded. "When we returned the virus infected us as well. We were forced to go underground where we encountered the Oracle."

"The what?" Synthetica asked.

"The Oracle is the shell programming for the computer known as Vector Sigma. That is what reformatted us from the purely mechanical to the techno-organic."

At this the optics of all four Predacons widened. Tripod had never felt speechless before.

"Now," Said Rattrap. "Wouldya mind tellin' us where you all came from and how ya were able ta escape tha virus?" Suspicion laced his every word.

"We used the emergency filters from the escape pod." Synthetica explained. "We knew that there was no communication coming out of Cybertron and so we feared the worst. The filters won't last long, however, we'll need to leave to get some more soon."

At this the Maximal Redstrike finally spoke up. "Ha! That's a rather cleaned up version of the events, isn't it? Not so tough when its six against four. These four Predacons are _criminals_! They were a part of a coup against the prisoner ship where my commander _died_! They took me prisoner, infected me with the virus, and then tried to kill me!"

"Hey!" Tripod barked out. "We _had_ to do what we did on that prisoner ship! There was no energon! We were all starving to death! And look at ya! Ya didn't _die_. Ya _would've_ died on that prisoner ship if I hadn't of taken ya hostage! But because of us you're alive and with a nifty new body." Tripod shrugged. "I call that a good day in my book."

The hare seethed and turned to Optimus. "If you're smart you'd get rid of them. Turn them out, hand them over to Megatron, whatever. _But get rid of them_. Or you're going to end up regretting it. These four are _dangerous_. Tripod and Lunker were on my block. I know their histories. They're slavers and murderers. And I know that those two-" Redstrike jerked his head in the direction of Synthetica and Samurai. "Were housed in Cellblock E, the cell for erased prisoners."

Optimus shook his head. "I may end up regretting it, but I have no choice. I need all of the available bots that I can get against this war with Megatron. And, unless they want their sparks removed, they should know that it is in their best interests not to double-cross us." Optimus turned to look at the four with a steely gaze. "I'm willing to overlook your past. This is not about factions or old grudges. This is about survival. If you want to survive then follow me, and I'll make sure you get a second chance."

Tripod gave another nonchalant shrug. "Whatever. I'll work beside ya but not under ya. And there's no way that me or mine are going to get all reformatted like the rest of ya."

Optimus gave him an all-knowing look. "If that's what you want, although I don't think you'll have much of a choice in the end."

Tripod narrowed his eyes at that, not knowing whether that had been veiled threat or not.

"We should have a little less than fifty hours before our filters stop working." Synthetica stated, forcing Tripod's gaze onto her. "Tripod? Could you come with me to the Electronica district?"

Tripod gave the Pred femme a bemused look at her amiable tone. So far, the only emotions he had heard from her were indignation and the cool, detached voice of a scientist.

Optimus faltered. "I'm not sure if that is a good idea. There are Vehicons everywhere…" Optimus trailed off at that. Everyone in the room could almost hear what he had wanted to say: _You can't be trusted to leave on your own_. He had realized how contradicting that would sound in contrast to his previous speech and so had kept his mouth shut. But Optimus couldn't help but wonder if he had made the right decision. He was sure that the Predacons would look out for their own survival first and foremost and, as a side effect, for the Maximal's, but he could never be too sure with Preds.

"Don't worry, Optimus." Synthetica replied. "The Electronica district was my home away from home. I know it like the back of my hand." The femme had drawled out the name Optimus, making sure that the Maximal leader understood that she was addressing him by his proper designation and rank. She had even shortened it to just "Optimus" like the other Maximals to help portray her as more familial.

Optimus hesitated only briefly before nodding his approval. _Not that I need his approval_, Tripod thought as he left with Synthetica. He had kept quiet during the whole exchange though. He was curious as to what the femme was up to. He didn't have to wait long. As soon as they were a good distance from the Maximals Synthetica leaned into his audio to whisper in that cold, unfeeling voice of hers.

"I know all about Optimus Primal." She said. "And he and his crew are anything but explorers."


	4. Suspicious Minds

Author's Note - This one is pretty short, but I promise the next one will be longer.

**Primus Giveth and Primus Taketh**

Chapter 4

"Suspicious Minds"

Samurai was on edge.

Every wire of his being was screaming danger. There was something distinctly unsettling about the mutant Maximals. Everything from their superstructures to their unwavering belief in Optimus Primal was a cause for concern to Samurai.

He chided himself mentally for using the nickname that Tripod had given him. Tripod was not exactly a bot that he enjoyed knowing. But it wasn't as though he could use his own designation. Everything about his past, including his original designation, had been wiped clean.

Samurai assumed that it had been a part of his sentencing for… whatever crime he committed. Maybe he knew something that the Maximals had wanted to remain secret? It was the only explanation.

Sometimes, if he dwelt hard enough, he could feel the echo of some long lost memory deep within his hard drive. Like the shadow of a thought. No matter how hard he tried to cling to it, it always slipped from his grasp.

The sounds of conversation drifted over to where he and Lunker were lounging. Glancing over he could see that the Maximal hostage and the bat had become fast friends. Their mutual hatred for Predacons had bound them together. Samurai's lips curled slightly at the sight of Redstrike. How could the Maximal have accepted his new body so willingly? This techno-organic _meshing_ was unnatural. It was one thing to have an organic alt mode, but to have it so entwined with your being? It sent a wave of revulsion through him.

Why would Vector Sigma reformat these Maximals like that? It didn't make any sense.

With a sweeping glance the Predacon appraised the Maximals. He could tell that they were trying to be nonchalant about the whole situation. Suddenly his optics locked with the rat. The Maximal looked back, the suspicion evident in his face and not at all ashamed to have been caught staring so blatantly.

Samurai was the first to look away. He had to get out of here. This place, these Transformers… It was making him feel anxious and he didn't know why. A tap from Lunker brought him back to the here and now. "Alright, now?" He asked. Samurai gave a quick nod before returning to his thoughts.

Even though "Samurai" had turned away, Rattrap continued staring. There was nothing trustworthy about these Preds. The whole situation was going to come crashing down around their heads, he just knew it. He had tried to pull Optimus aside, tried to convince him to send the Preds away but Optimus had deftly dodge any attempt at a real discussion. Probably because Rattrap could never just "discuss" anything. He grumbled to himself as he recalled their conversation.

"Rattrap-" Optimus had cut him off before he could finish five words of his long-winded spiel that he had prepared for. To be fair three of those words were swears and the other two were "Preds" and "Preds" respectively. "It would be a detriment to us if we allowed Megatron to capture them. Yes, they're criminals but we need them. We will need to be vigilant, but we cannot abandon them. It wouldn't be right. Besides," Here Optimus gave him a self-satisfied smirk. "I would have thought that you of all people would be able to look past their faction, after Dinobot-"

Rattrap hadn't stuck around to listen to what Optimus had to say after that. It wasn't fair of Optimus to fling Dinobot's memory around like it was nothing. And it especially wasn't fair to Dinobot for Optimus to compare him to these stinkin' Preds.

Rattrap continued to eye the two Preds. He knew that there would be trouble and, when it happened, he'll be ready. He just wished that he could transform.

PGPTPGPT

Tripod transformed and kicked open the door that lead into a shop that used to sell, among other things, filters.

Synthetica transformed beside him and quickly entered the abandoned store. She began to pull a variety of things from the shelves.

"Now, how do ya know who this Primal character is?" Tripod asked as he watched her work.

"Before I was sent to prison I worked for the Maximal High Council as a scientist. I was the only Predacon in such a high position and I wouldn't have even been there if I didn't have the skills that they needed. Anyway, there was one particular mission that I had worked on. The Maximals had wanted to recreate Starcream's immortal spark. The result, Protoform X, was successful but criminally insane. He murdered the inhabitants of a starbase and cannibalized their sparks. The Maximals deemed him to be hazard and decided it would be best if he was exiled on a barren world. Optimus Primal and his crew were ordered to carry out X's sentencing."

Tripod grinned to himself. "I knew Maximals weren't as perfect as they like to make themselves out to be, but I had no idea that their skeletons would be so… _scandalous_."

Synthetica looked at him. "When the experiment proved unsuccessful the Maximals decided to destroy any evidence that Protoform X had ever existed. Because I was a Predacon I couldn't be trusted to keep their secret, so I was shipped off to prison. Let's say these Maximals did defeat Megatron and free all of those sparks. What then? Do you honestly think that they will let us go? Knowing what we know?"

The smirk immediately fell from Tripod's face.

Synthetica moved closer. "These Maximals are not as innocent as they pretend to be. We have no idea what kind of angle they are playing or what exactly this Oracle is telling them."

"What do ya think we should do?"

"We need to get close to this Oracle. Figure out just what it wants." Synthetica looked around at the various wares. "And we need to prepare ourselves. We should be able to create a few bombs with some of this stuff. The Maximals will not go down willingly."


	5. The Steep and Thorny Way

Author's Note - Okay, I lied. Its not longer and most of it is crazy talk. Oh, well.

**Primus Giveth and Primus Taketh**

Chapter 5

"The Steep and Thorny Way"

Synthetica and Tripod hide their supplies in one of the many cavernous alcoves, away from Maximal optics. They made their way back quickly, lest the Maximals grew suspicious.

Lunker and Samurai immediately rose to greet them and Synthetica handed out the filters. "We have to do this delicately so that no unfiltered air gets into your cables." She stated. "Right before you disconnect your filter, be sure to switch off your intakes."

The two nodded absently as the four of them got to work. Tripod notices that the Maximals were all watching them out of the corners of their optics, particularly the rat. Tripod turned to grin lecherously at the Maximal, who bared his buck teeth in response before turning away. Tripod noted with delight that there seemed to be a hint of jealousy in his countenance. Was it their forms? Tripod wondered if perhaps not all of the Maximals were pleased with their new superstructures. He sure as hell wouldn't be if he looked like that.

Synthetica gave Tripod a quick glance, a reminder of their plan. Synthetica and Tripod went over to lean against the wall with Lunker and Samurai, getting ready to recharge. It had been a while since they were able to rest their processors and they were in need of it. Tripod looked over at the Maximals again. They too would need to recharge soon. _If_ they recharged, that is. He sure hoped so; their entire plan rested on it.

Tripod looked over at Synthetica who was already offline. At least, that's how she appeared to be. Tripod knew that she couldn't be trusted; she was a Pred, after all, and if anyone knew the way a Pred processed it would be another Pred. He wondered just how much of that story she had fed him was true. Regardless of whether any of it was true or not, Tripod was going to follow along for now. He didn't trust her, but he trusted the Maximals even less.

After endless cycles of waiting and pretending to be in the throes of a recharge, the Maximals finally settled down to slip into their own recharge modes. Tripod and Synthetica continued to wait, just in case they too were pretending. After what seemed like ages to Tripod, Synthetica finally flicked her optics online and stood up. Tripod immediately followed after her as she silently moved through the underground caves.

The came upon the large, circular computer that they knew at once to be the Oracle and Vector Sigma. The middle of the circle appeared to be a swirling blue liquid-like substance. Tripod had no idea what it was, but there was no way he was going near it. Synthetica gave a stopping motion with her hand. "Stand guard," She whispered. "I'm going inside."

"Are ya sure that's a good idea?" Tripod asked, still eying the Oracle suspiciously. "What if ya come back lookin' like those Maximals?"

"That's a risk I'm going to have to take." She said. "We only know what they're telling us and who knows if that is even true? There might not even be a Megatron; they could be the true cause of the virus and simply made up this Megatron for all we know. The only way to gain the upper hand is to interact with the Oracle ourselves."

With that Synthetica walked into the giant computer.

PGPTPGPTPGPT

Was it the sun?

Synthetica blinked her optics rapidly, trying to figure out what that incredible light was. Looking up she saw thousands of sparks clustered together, giving everything a brilliant silver glow.

Looking around she sees that she is standing on an ocean. Over there to her left is Tripod and to her right is Samurai.

"What is going on?" She asks. Synthetica thinks that maybe she should be more forceful. She blinks her optics again. Was she dreaming?

"Apparently," Tripod drawls. "The Oracle has chosen you to do its bidding. You're all… chosen-y."

"Chosen for what?"

Tripod grins. "Oh, it's got plans, you see. Big plans. That Primal fellow has got it all wrong. He's been using the Oracle for his machinations. Abusing his power and the power of Vector Sigma. The Oracle wants divine retribution."

Synthetica tilted her head. She turned to look at Samurai.

"What do you think?" She asked.

Samurai merely shrugged. "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance." He spoke clearly, slowly, as though he had no idea what he was saying. "Pray, love, remember: and there is pansies. That's for thoughts."

Synthetica nodded her head. "Right. You're crazy." She looked down, noticing a shadow fall over her. She looked up and smiled.

"Oh, there you are." She said to the dark shadow. "I missed you. You have no idea how long I've been searching for you, No. 24." She blinked her optics again. "Number Twenty-Four. I always liked numbers more than letters."

Slowly the shadow leaned down to whisper into her audio. Synthetica nodded. "Of course. You're right. I'll do it all. I'll do whatever you say."


	6. Pillar of Salt

**Primus Giveth and Primus Taketh**

Chapter 6

"Pillar of Salt"

A terrible screeching filled the entire underground cavern.

Both groups, the Maximals and the Predacons, immediately jumped up to combat whatever it was that was besieging them.

"What's going on?" Demanded Blackarachnia.

"It's coming from the Oracle!" Optimus cried out, terror filling his voice as he made his way towards the great computer. The others trailed quickly behind.

Upon reaching the Oracle they saw nothing out of place. It was completely fine. Tripod, however, was sitting on the ground. His expression was one of dazed confusion. Cheetor immediately transformed and grabbed the Predacon.

"What did you do?" He growled.

"Me? I didn't do nothin'! It was Synthetica! She kept saying that you were all lying and that she was going to interact with the Oracle herself! I tried to stop her! I didn't want one of my Predacons to end up lookin' like you! But she went in there anyway and not two seconds later she came tearing out of there! Only… it wasn't her! She looked different! All… shiny." His voice trailed off. "But she didn't look like you either, and she kept muttering to herself. Something about flowers and names…" He jumped up and pointed wildly at the Oracle. "That thing made her insane!"

Nightscream had taken off in search of the wayward Pred when Tripod informed them that she was gone. He came back just as Tripod was finishing his spiel. "She made a mess of things on her way to the surface." He reported. "I went up there for a quick look and couldn't see her. She's long gone."

Optimus sighed. "The Oracle only reveals itself to receptive sparks. It must have rejected her and affected her processor. We need to retrieve her."

"Why?" Redstrike demanded. "I say good riddance!"

"If she's captured by Megatron she could put the entire group in danger." Optimus explained. "She knows where we are and about the Oracle. We can't allow that to happen."

Tripod crossed his arms. "Figures you only want to rescue her to protect yourselves. I bet you'd be a little more gung ho if she was a Maximal."

Optimus ignored the Predacon, knowing that he was only trying to get a rise out of the leader. "We'll split into groups and search for her. Blackarachnia, Nightscream, and Lunker will go north; Rattrap, Cheetor, and Samurai will go south. Redstrike, Tripod, and I will head east. If no one spots her we'll converge and head west."

Everyone nodded, although much grumbling was heard from a few bots in particular. As the three groups headed out Optimus prayed that allowing the Predacons to stay hadn't been a mistake.

PGPTPGPTPGPT

Cheetor and Rattrap walked silently through the streets with Samurai flying overhead. The tension was incredibly thick. No one said a word. All of sudden the crunching sound of tanks could be heard.

"Tank drones. Samurai!" Cheetor quickly transformed as Samurai landed beside him, poised and ready. Rattrap, however, was left standing there, still in rat form. A hard expression flitted across Cheetor's face as he regarded Rattrap. "Go hide. Samurai and I will handle the tank drones."

"Hey! I-"

"Rattrap, go!"

Rattrap grouched as he slunk off into what appeared to be a justice station, a place to process criminals and prisoners. Looking around he accessed what could be useful while outside he could hear the battle just beginning to rage. He grinned to himself as he found access to a computer terminal. Hopping up he quickly plugged in his tail and began shifting through the files that it contained within its mainframe. The computer would be able to provide Rattrap with the files of all criminals ever captured and processed. Including their own little group of renegade Predacons. Now he would be able to find out exactly who they were and what their agenda was.

Rattrap decided to download Samurai's file first. After all he had been paired with them. The problem was he didn't know Samurai's true designation. Mumbling himself as he filtered the files based on gender and superstructure, looking quickly at the holographics in search of Samurai's face.

Finally he found it. A strangled gasp erupted from his throat as he read the file. Samurai had originally been called Orion. According to the file he had been a rather complacent Predacon. A few small-time thefts, but nothing noteworthy. And then one day he just snapped. He would slip into trances, recreating battles from the War, despite the fact that he never fought. Whole tracts of his memory had been erased, but the cause was unknown. In one bout of insanity he attacked and killed a high-ranking Maximal official, earning him his place on board that prisoner ship.

Cheetor came rushing through the building then, dragging an offline Samurai. "We're surrounded. Check to see if there is another exit, I'm going to try to block off the way in." With that the cat disappeared again.

Rattrap disconnected from the computer, but paused when he looked at Samurai – or, more appropriately, Orion. It was the perfect opportunity to find out if this seemingly sane bot was truly crazy. Rattrap accessed the Predacon's processor, knowing full well that this was a violation of his privacy, but who really cared? If there was a good possibility that he was a threat Rattrap didn't see a problem with it.

Rattrap worked his hacking abilities, trying to unlock the deeply hidden memories. Suddenly a flood of images and text flooded his processor. He jerked and tried to wrench away from the onslaught, gasping at what he saw. It wasn't possible, it just wasn't possible. Yanking free, his processor still reeling with what he saw, Rattrap felt himself transforming. Not even fully aware of what had just happened Rattrap stared at Samurai shocked to see that he was now online.

One look into his optics and Rattrap realized that he knew. He knew everything.


End file.
